


The Language of Flowers

by silvernatasha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: wizard_love, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:16:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvernatasha/pseuds/silvernatasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new love blossoms between old friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Language of Flowers

If there was one thing Lavender Brown did not do, it was walk. No, that would be too modest, too unnoticeable. When she crossed a room, she bounded or strolled or even sashayed. In Neville’s opinion, to walk was too mundane for a witch like Lavender.

Today, she swept into the greenhouse in a swathe of cerise robes, several flowers turning to look at her, tendrils extending in excitement at the presence of someone new. “Neville!” she cried in astonishment.

Neville clutched his shirt to his chest, her arrival coinciding with his decision to change his shirt and his face flooding with colour as bright as her robes. “Lavender! I wasn’t expecting you until four.”

“It  _is_  four o’clock. Five past, actually.”

“Oh.” Neville swallowed. “Let me just get covered up.” He almost dived for his supply cupboard at the back of the greenhouse, hunting out a shirt that was not covered in fluorescent sap.

Lavender just looked amused, setting her small handbag down on the potting table. “So, do you normally tend the greenhouses half-naked or just on Wednesday afternoons?” She grinned as he turned to look at her, scars on her cheek crinkling. “I might have to find excuses to come up to Hogwarts more often.”

“Er, no.” Neville quickly pulled the clean blue shirt on over his head. “Just got a little messy.” He ran a hand through his hair, but knew anyone would feel less than glamorous around Lavender. “You’re here for the daffodils, then?”

She nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Come on, then.” Neville led her to greenhouse three, Lavender snatching up her handbag as she followed him. 

Their feet crunched over the gravel path as they approached the greenhouse. “I never asked,” Neville said, sliding the door open. “But why do you need so many Honking Daffodils, anyway? I thought you hated them.”

Lavender gave a soft groan. “They’re  _definitely_  not my favourite flowers,” she agreed. “But I’m doing the flowers for a wedding on Saturday. Barmy Welsh couple. Very patriotic. I had to persuade them that, no, it probably wasn’t a good choice to have a leek in the bride’s bouquet.” She giggled, following Neville to the bank of bright yellow flowers. “They’re having Honking Daffodils as the centrepieces on the tables at the reception, though. Not something I’d choose, but no doubt it’ll be something of a conversation starter.”

She sighed, bending down to examine the flowers, slim fingers running over the stems and petals. The flower she touched honked loudly; Lavender rolled her eyes. “These are perfect - you’re an absolute lifesaver, Nev.” Lavender turned and have him a hard hug.

“It’s no problem.”

“It has been for me!” she complained against his shoulder. “You wouldn’t  _believe_  how stressful getting these flowers has been. They wouldn’t listen when I told them that daffodils are not in season in July, so now I’m getting flowers from four different suppliers.” Neville felt her sigh again in his arms and he pressed a kiss to the top of his old friend’s head.

“Hogwarts is usually good for out of season flowers. I’m here if you ever need my help.” No one had been overly surprised when Lavender had turned to floristry after the war, though perhaps no one had really noticed any talent she had for herbology at school - Neville suspected that had more than a little to do with him and the fact that a shy, bumbling boy’s talent was rather more astounding than the pretty, talkative girl who seemed to care very little about the academic nature of school. The war had left Lavender with terrible scars on one side of her face and neck and now Neville liked to think that the way she used flowers now was her way of making the world a little more beautiful.

“Well, I think I owe you a huge favour,” Lavender agreed, pulling back to admire the bright blooms once more. “Anything you want. Dinner maybe?” She paused. “How are you, anyway?”

Neville bit the inside of his cheek. “Good, thanks. The divorce is final tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Her face fell, a look of horror at her own attitude.

Neville frowned. “Oh, don’t go looking upset for me,” he scolded, using the same tone of voice he used on first years who had ‘forgotten’ their homework. “How many times do I have to tell people that it’s all perfectly amicable?”

Her brow creased. “Things are really okay between you?”

“Yes,” he insisted. He’d been separated from his ex since last summer, too, and nothing about that relationship seemed to hurt anymore. Their marriage simply hadn’t worked out and they had both accepted that - it was just their friends who seemed to have the trouble with it. “Hannah and I are still good friends. We’re just not going to be married anymore. We’re even going for a drink tomorrow, after it’s all done.”

“Really?” Lavender gave a small smile. “Good for you. I’ve had my share of nasty break-ups. Wouldn’t want that for you.” Her eyes widened. “Oh! Well, then. I’ll send Hannah a bouquet. Yes! Oh, I’ve got these lovely yellow zinnias in at the moment. They’re absolutely  _gorgeous_. Hannah will love them.”

“I’m sure she will,” Neville agreed with a nod, unable to stop a smile at Lavender’s sudden enthusiasm. She had done the flowers for his wedding three years ago, so perhaps there was an appropriate, if somewhat morbid, symmetry about her offer to send Hannah flowers.

“It’ll be very Hufflepuff,” Lavender mused. “Oooh. I might even have a little tiny stuffed badger left over from when I did some flowers for group of girls who left Hufflepuff last year.”

Grinning, Neville nodded. “Thanks, Lavender. And it’s good to see you smiling again. You’re… not just putting it on, are you?”

“My smiles are always real. Just like my tears.” She cocked her head, grimacing somewhat. “Was I really that much of a miserable bitch? That’s what Parvati kept saying, but you know what she’s like.”

“Um.” Neville never would have called her that, let alone admit it to her face. “Yes?” he ventured. “But that was understandable. Everyone thinks Oliver treated you awfully.”

Looking away, a sad smile settled onto her lips. “Yeah, well. Perhaps one of these days I’ll find a bloke who doesn’t treat me like crap. Either that or I’ll turn to lesbianism.” She shrugged and offered him an impish look.

Neville chuckled, a little startled. “And deprive the men of this world of your charms?”

“Oh, they can see my charms,” Lavender said airily. “Just wait until you see the charity calendar I’ve organised. I’m Miss August.” 

“Are you serious?”

“I’ve got sunflowers hiding my modesty.” She grinned. “But you’ll have to buy one to see. It comes out in November.”

It was not so much the amount of nudity in the photograph that surprised Neville, more that Lavender had come up with the concept. With her war injuries, she had more to cover than most. He smiled gently, glad that she could be so confident about it. “With a sales witch like you, how could I resist?”

“Excellent!” She put her hand on his elbow. “Or maybe you can see my charms before. I was serious about dinner.” She winked and Neville flushed. “Can you give me a hand getting these flowers back to my shop?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

***********

 _Neville,_

 _Thank you again for supplying those Honking Daffodils. I may have had to wear earplugs when I was arranging them, but they looked beautiful when they were done. I’ve enclosed a photo of them - I always like to keep photos for my portfolio, and I thought you might like one, too._

 _Next time you’re near my shop, drop in and I’ll take you for coffee and cake. I know a place where they make the best chocolate cake I have ever tasted. Even if you don’t like cake, I feel like I don’t see you anywhere near enough and I really think we should change that. The world shouldn’t be deprived of a newly-single wizard such as yourself, after all._

 _I’ll see you soon._

 _Love,  
Lavender_

***********

With the summer holidays and the plants behaving themselves, Neville took Lavender up on her invitation for dinner. Coffee turned into a promise for more coffee which, in turn, led to dinner and multiple dates. Just because he was only recently divorced didn’t mean that he hadn’t felt single for a very long time.

Going on dates with Lavender wasn’t just an easy adjustment to make, but one that Neville thoroughly enjoyed, especially with soft kisses and gentle flirting. More than a few of those dates led to Neville waking up with a warm, naked Lavender in his bed.

One morning, he lay there and watched her sleeping until she cracked one knowing eye open and admitted she’d been awake for a while. Rolling over, Lavender hooked a leg around Neville as she drew him into a long kiss. Lavender kissed like she was smiling, Neville thought: as though it was the best thing in the world. She’d never been one to shy from physical affection - Neville didn’t just remember her string of disastrous relationships, but also all the unashamed hugs she’d given him every time Trevor had gone missing at school and the way she’d just simply sat with him, curled up close in the common room during seventh year.

With all that physical affection turned towards him, Neville was quickly aroused, hands roaming her body, slipping over her back as he tugged her closer, erection pressed against her thigh. On her back, he could feel the thin, silvery scars that marred her skin. These weren’t the work of Fenrir Greyback and Neville could remember how she got them with a stunning clarity. At the time, it had been so surreal. The first time he had got a half-naked girl into his bed, it had been Lavender, only she’d had her chest pressed against the covers and had been resolutely trying not to cry as Neville had tended her wounds from detention. Lavender had easily got detention as much as him or Seamus that year - she liked to talk and, sometimes, didn’t know when to shut up.

This particular time stung so sharply in Neville’s mind because it had been Parvati who had inflicted the wounds. Her turn to ‘help’ the Carrows with detention and practice curses for Dark Arts lessons. She had tried to hang back, ducking her head when they asked for volunteers and Crabbe and Goyle had stepped forward. But, of course, Alecto ‘volunteered’ Parvati. Nursing a black eye of his own, Neville had watched as Parvati was about to break down and refuse, until Lavender had thrown off her robes, turned her back on her best friend and waited with her head held high for the Lashing Hex to strike her back.

As Neville had peeled the tattered, stained shirt from Lavender’s back, Seamus had comforted Parvati on the other side of the dorm, the other girl nearly hysterical as Lavender ground out through gritted teeth that if she hadn’t done the hex, they would have both got a far worse punishment.

Now, he had the same girl in his bed, only she was completely naked and mewling pleasurably beneath his touch in a way that drove Neville crazy. Rolling her onto her back, Neville entered her with an easy motion, slowly making love to her in a way that had him smiling for the rest of the day.

***********

 _Neville,_

 _Did I leave my knickers in your quarters? You know, the blue ones? I know I got dressed in a hurry the other morning, but I thought I’d put them in my handbag._

 _Don’t worry. I’m not desperate for them back (there are plenty more where they came from!) but I just wanted to account for them._

 _I hope you’re well and those scratches on your back are okay. I didn’t mean to hurt you! See you soon - maybe I’ll kiss them better if you ask nicely. (I know I wouldn’t want to go to Poppy Pomfrey and try to explain how they got there!)_

 _Love,  
Lavender_

***********

Finding himself with a lot of time on his hands, Neville spent whenever he could at her shop; Lavender certainly never seemed to be in a hurry to get rid of him, showing him how she worked and - more than once - flipping the sign on the door to usher Neville to her neat flat upstairs and let him distract her from her work completely.

Neville liked watching Lavender work. She seemed to handle the blooms with a special sort of reverence, putting a lot more thought into the arrangements than Neville had imagined. She selected each flower individually, explaining it to Neville as she created a bouquet for a customer’s first wedding anniversary.

“It’s all very well saying ‘I love you’ to someone with flowers,” Lavender said, examining a scarlet zinnia, “but if you don’t speak the language, the message gets kind of muddled. At least, I think it does. Most people just want their flowers to look pretty.”

“And you speak the language?” Neville teased, arms slipping around her waist from behind. He pulled her hair back to kiss her neck.

She pouted at him, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I bet you speak to your plants, don’t you?” she retorted.

“Yeah, I suppose so.” He gave her waist a squeeze. It was tempting, he thought, to simply slip his hand beneath her skirt and tease her while she tried to work. He loved the flush on her cheeks when she was aroused, the breathless quality that her voice took. She was normally so composed that there was a thrill in breaking that down. It was special that he got to see her like that.

“You’re distracting me,” she complained. 

“I know.”

Lavender bit her lip as she picked up a red rosebud, looking at it closely. “I think everyone speaks Rose,” she said carefully, trying to ignore his creeping hands. “Just like everyone knows a few words of French or whatever. A rosebud like this means ‘pure and lovely’.”

“Just like you,” he murmured against her neck.

“After everything we’ve done in the last few weeks, do you really think I’m pure?”

“Perhaps not. Definitely lovely, though.”

“Hmmm.” She added the bud to the bouquet, holding her breath as she found the right spot. “I think the rosebuds are a bit more subtle than full blooms,” she admitted. “Flowers don’t need to look ostentatious.” She grinned, turning her head to look at him. “They speak for themselves.” She set the finished bouquet to the side, out of harm’s way.

Neville met her lips in a gentle kiss. “My grandmother always wanted me to learn another language,” Neville admitted softly and he surreptitiously started to unfasten her robes. How was he supposed to resist temptation, he wondered, now that he knew she rarely wore a bra beneath her robes?

“I think you can speak the language of flowers,” Lavender said gently. “Maybe it’s a different dialect than me, but… I can’t do what you do with plants.” She hesitated as her robes parted, the cool air of the workroom kissing her bare skin. Neville’s warm hands eagerly cupped her pert breasts and Lavender closed her eyes for a moment.

“I’m good with my hands,” he remarked, thumbs circling slowly over her nipples and feeling them begin to harden.

Lavender swallowed, then inhaled sharply. Neville could tell she was trying not to moan and kissed her throat.

“Are you… are you doing anything this weekend?” she said shakily.

“I dunno,” he murmured against her neck, still massaging her breasts. “Filius mentioned something about…”

Lavender growled in the back of her throat, head tipping back with a gasp as Neville pinched her nipples. She was so responsive to his touch that Neville loved to listen to every little noise she made. It was almost like discovering a new plant and he relished the opportunity to discover every little quirk and find out what made it blossom.

“You don’t want to spend the weekend with Flitwick!” Lavender chided, breathless.

“Really?” he teased, raising his eyebrows. Lifting his head, Neville watched her face as he touched her, the way her throat seemed to quiver with suppressed moans and how she blinked more, trying to focus her gaze.

“No. I’m far more interesting than him,” she protested. “And prettier.”

Neville chuckled, impressed by her cheek. “Oh?”

“Yes. I also have it on good authority that I look far better in a dress than him.” Gasping, Lavender started to tremble now. Neville removed his hands, firmly turning her around until Lavender’s lower back was pressed against her workbench. He lowered his head, drawing a distended nipple into his mouth and hearing her groan properly for the first time.

“I’m going to come and visit you up at Hogwarts,” she said quickly, voice higher and desperate. “We'll have lunch. ’S meant to be sunny.”

Neville kissed across her chest, her heavy breathing ringing in his ears. Merlin, he was unbearably hard right now and his neck was starting to ache, but it was worth it to hear her try and speak as he toyed with her body. His mouth closed around the other nipple, sucking harder.

“I’ll make a picnic,” she whined.

He agreed, but not before fucking her hard on the workbench, scattering discarded flowers and rolls of ribbon everywhere. Lavender didn’t even mind the mess, laughing weakly against his chest as she threatened to tie him up next time he came to visit so that he couldn’t distract her.

***********

 _Neville,_

 _You actually stole my knickers, didn’t you? The red ones with the roses. They’re my favourites._

 _Are you going to give them back or am I going to have to take them by force?_

 _I’m easy either way._

 _Love,  
Lavender_

***********

Neville’s sense of pride blossomed the week; he spent the next few days meticulously tidying his greenhouses and pruning the plants to within an inch of their lives. It didn’t matter that Lavender’s florist shop was usually scattered with flowers that Lavender deemed unsuitable for her arrangements and bits of ribbon that caught on your shoes; Neville found himself wanting to impress her. The flat above her shop was always neat, so Neville assumed she like things to be tidy.

It was Lavender who impressed him more, though, striding into his greenhouse in flirty summer robes and a matching hat. Neville had a theory that she simply rolled out of bed in the morning and looked gorgeous from the get-go, but when he’d confided in her, she’d giggled and told him to stop being silly before telling him that he had morning breath and proceeding to snog him breathless regardless.

“Hello, Neville!” Lavender set down her large picnic basket, beaming.

“Lavender.” His arm encircled her waist tugging her close as he kissed her.

Lavender grinned. “It’s good to see you, too,” she murmured, apparently impressed by his forwardness.

“This is for you,” he said softly, presenting her with a maiden’s blush rose that he had grown at Hogwarts. Neville felt foolish the moment she took it with a quizzical look. Lavender was the sort of woman you  _want_  to give flowers to, but  _shouldn’t_  because she knew far too much about them. That knowledge seemed to take away the romantic nature of the gift. He expected her to find something to criticise about the appearance of the flower, but Lavender just smiled.

“Thank you.” She lifted it, inhaling. “It smells beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Neville eyed the basket curiously. “So, this is the picnic you promised?”

“I’m a woman of my word. All home-cooked. It’s delicious, I promise.” She glanced up towards the roof of the greenhouse, her nose wrinkling. “Except it looks kind of cloudy out. I thought it was going to be sunny.”

“It said it was going to rain in the paper this morning,” Neville offered.

She sighed. “We’ll just have to improvise, then,” Lavender decided. “We’ve got a nice, warm greenhouse here. Surrounded by nature and none of the nasty weather.” She grinned. “Perfect.”

Neville laughed. “We can always have lunch some other time…”

“Nonsense.” She wouldn’t hear of it, flouncing to the other side of the greenhouse where there was ample space to spread the tartan blanket that she Summoned from the picnic basket. “Bring the basket over,” she ordered, taking off her hat.

Chuckling, Neville hefted the basket over to her, wondering how she’d managed to carry it so far. “Yes, ma’am.”

She pouted with crimson lips, but patted a space on the blanket beside her. Lavender proceeded to unpack a selection of food, starting with a bottle of wine and two glasses. It was the last thing that she removed from the basket that made Neville’s eyes widen. Lavender flushed, setting the cake down. “For your birthday,” she said softly. “I  _know_  it’s not until the middle of next week, but I’m busy on your actual birthday, so I thought…”

Neville ducked his head to kiss her cheek. “Thank you,” he told her earnestly. “It’s wonderful. Very thoughtful. And chocolate.”

“I like chocolate,” she said shyly.

“So do I.”

“Good.” She beamed, fingers creeping up Neville’s sleeve as she leant in for a kiss. “I thought,” she whispered, “that we could work up an appetite first.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” she breathed, shifting onto her knees. Her fingers pried opening the fastening of his robes and Neville found he couldn’t shrug them off fast enough. As he unbuttoned his shirt, Lavender wasted no time in heading straight for his trousers, unfastening them. “I’ve been thinking about this all week.”

Neville flushed, cock starting to stir as her slim fingers slipped into his trousers. “Really?”

“Yeah. And, Merlin, do you  _know_  how difficult it is for me to concentrate in my workroom these days? I keep thinking about everything that we’ve done there.” Lavender placed her hands firmly on Neville’s chest, face close enough to his that Neville tipped his head for a kiss, only for her to push him onto his back. “It’s far too distracting.”

Lavender straddled his legs and Neville looked up at her. “So,” she decided, “I thought I’d see if I could make you think of me every time you work in this greenhouse.” She licked her lips, taking off her robes and throwing them to the ground. Her breasts swung gracefully forwards as she kissed his chest; Neville groaned, shifting as she pushed down his trousers.

She wiggled backwards, violet nails trailing gently down his thighs. “Are these  _mandrakes_  on your boxers?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh.” Bollocks. Neville was sure he’d do something stupid today and it just  _had_  to be wearing one of his least sexy pieces of underwear, wouldn’t it? Fucking Seamus and his ‘funny’ Christmas presents. “Yeah.”

“That’s cute,” she said with a soft giggle and proceeded to remove them. Lavender hummed in approval as she wrapped her fingers around his hardening cock, stroking gently. Neville sighed, hands grasping at the blanket. Was she going to… oh, fuck,  _yes_  she was…

Lavender lowered her head, taking his erection in her mouth at an agonisingly slow pace. So wet and hot and that glorious tongue of hers. Neville rested his head back against the blanket with a grunt, resisting the urge to thread his fingers through her hair as her tongue stroke confidently up the underside of his cock. He had certainly never done  _this_  in the greenhouse before. Neville’s gaze went up to the glass ceiling and darkening sky, watching as rain began to  _splat_  noisily above them; he had never been happier to be inside on a rainy day.

Her delicate fingers, fingers Neville had admired as they had teased delicate blooms into arrangements, slid up his thighs. As her hot mouth sucked and licked, he tried to slow his breathing and make this last; there was no way he wanted this to end too soon. Try as he might to think of other things and delay his reaction, her hands and mouth worked his body with a practised familiarity that sent thoughts of chores and lesson plans skittering from his mind.

“Bloody hell,” he groaned, eyes screwed shut. “Lav, I’m not gonna last.”

With a slow stroke of her tongue, Lavender removed her mouth; Neville sighed, looking up at her. Somehow, that red lipstick was still on her lips and not on his cock. Her lips were pouty now, eyes wide with delight. “We’ve got all afternoon,” she reminded him gently, hand still on his thigh. Naughty fingers cupped his balls and Neville’s hips jerked. “All weekend in fact.”

Neville’s hand grasped her wrist, pulling it away from his erection. She pouted at him, but he sat up and kissed her hard, taking her other hand, too. “I know,” he growled, chest brushing against hers and enjoying the feel of bare skin touching. “But I want you now.”

She let out a soft giggle. “Whatever you say.”

With a bit or rearranging, Neville lay her gently on the blanket, reluctantly tearing himself away from her inviting lips, to kiss down her neck and feel distorted scars beneath his mouth. His kisses travelled downwards, licking and sucking and taking a sensitive nipple into his mouth. Lavender gasped loudly for him, mewling in her throat while his fingers slipped between her warm thighs.

Neville breathed deeply, enjoying the scent of her. She wasn’t all just flowers and perfume, there was a rich, heady scent of arousal that was far more intoxicating than any of the plants in the greenhouse. He kissed down her stomach, slowly pushing her thighs apart. 

“Neville,” she complained, breathless. “Today was meant to be about  _you_.”

His tongue took a swipe at her clit and Neville lifted his head, grinning. “So? I’m enjoying myself.”

“Really?” she whimpered as his fingers stroked slick skin.

“Yes,” Neville assured her, lowering his head between her thighs. “Love seeing you like this.” With the tang of her in his mouth, Neville teased her, tracing out her name with his tongue in slow strokes. Her thighs seemed to tremble beneath his fingers and Neville’s hands slipped beneath her, squeezing her arse.

Lavender gave a jerk of her hips. “Fucking hell,” she groaned. Hearing those words spill from those pretty red lips reminded Neville of his own needs and he couldn’t resist temptation for much longer before he moved up her body, touching and kissing in a bid to make her gasp and groan. It worked, Lavender squirming and looking up at him with a hazy gaze.

“You look good like this,” Neville murmured, nuzzling her neck. His cock pressed against her thigh, her skin so soft that it was nearly unbearable. “I’d rather look at you than any of your flowers.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Neville nodded, cupping a breast with a large hand and feeling her hard nipple pressing into his palm. He really could just play with her breasts all day - if he were a woman, it would be tempting never to leave the house. He sucked on her other nipple until Lavender whimpered and tried to push him away, her expression one of desperation. “Neville,” she complained again.

“Say please,” he whispered and she finally begged him, gasping the word as her legs spread for him and Neville’s cock pressed against wet flesh. The breathless sound to her voice was beautiful and Neville took his time as he pushed inside her. She was so tight and hot around him that it was nearly torturous not to thrust in; he could feel the little jerks of her hips as she tried to encourage him. Finally buried as deep as he could go, Neville kissed her soundly.

Lavender’s hand found his, fingers twining tightly with his until Neville grabbed her other hand and pushed her arms up over her head. He looked down at her, panting and feeling her breasts push against his chest as she arched her back. Holding her arms in place, Neville began to move, languid thrusts of his hips that had Lavender rocking to meet him.

Neville had to concentrate to stop himself from coming just yet. As selfless as Lavender seemed to want to be with this birthday present, he wasn’t that selfish. But, Merlin, it was difficult. Her face pressed into the crook of his neck, pressing hot, breathless kisses wherever she could and Neville didn’t know how long he could last.

His thrusts began to speed up, harder and faster, the blanket starting to bunch up beneath them as their bodies shifted with the force of their movements. Lavender was whimpering beneath him, arms straining against Neville’s strength and teeth sometimes scraping against his neck as she kissed him.

Grunting, Neville released her hands, feeling Lavender sigh and her nails start to scrape down over his back. Not for the first time, Neville wondered just how deeply Greyback’s influence on her went. The cosmetic things were obvious, but it went deeper and Neville knew of a few things but, as her fingernails dug into his arm, he suspected that the wolfish influence was there. He liked this - cool, calm and collected didn’t suit Lavender and he liked that he could see and feel her being so passionate. He liked to bring out the animal in her.

His own hands wandered as much as Lavender’s, an arm finally slipping under her shoulders as he lifted her slightly, body pressing even closer to his and their skin sticking in the increasing humidity of the greenhouse.

“Oh, Neville. Please.” Her nails latched onto his shoulder, nearly hard enough to break the skin: Neville cried out in surprise and came, shuddering on top of her. His whole body seemed to relax in that heart stopping moment and Neville opened his eyes to the sound of his own heavy breathing and Lavender giving an awkward roll of her hips.

She growled at him - actually  _growled_  - and jerked her hips again. “Neville,” she whined.

Arm wrapped firmly around her waist, Neville rolled them until they were on their side, trying his best to stay sheathed within her. Unable to speak just yet, Neville kissed her softly, hand worming between their bodies until he could stroke his fingers over her clit. Lavender trembled, gasping between kisses until Neville could murmur, “Come for me.”

His heart still pounding, Neville finally watched her come undone, clenching around him. He held her tight, marvelling in the feel of her in his arms and listening to her pant for breath. With great reluctance, Neville pulled out, still holding her as they lay together on the blanket. The rain continued to  _splat_  against the roof.

Neville lifted her hand to kiss it. Lavender turned her head and beamed, her smile making Neville’s chest tight.

“Happy… early birthday,” she whispered.

He chuckled tiredly. “Thanks, love.” 

Lavender poked him in the side. “Did I succeed? Are you going to remember me every time you’re in here.”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Hmm,” he mused, trying not to grin. “We may need to do that a few more times before the message really sinks in. You know I can be kind of forgetful.”


End file.
